"heatwave" poems
Sweetly loving on my lips, swooning when you grab my hips
Sweet as honey with every sip, causing my intoxication
To bite your lip, and grin at me, drowning me deeper in serenity
Your lovely tongue, oh my, a heatwave to my mind
You've awestruck me with many waves of this pleasure
Strong enough to send the innocent into whiplash
You handsome brute, taking everything else out of my sight
My legs turn to jelly when you hold me so tightly, I've lost this fight
Causing waves of commotion a force of ***** insanity forming
Let my melody drug you, Our experience won't be boring
As my seductive lips craft your every moan, calling me, echoing
Your eyes fall back and you'll fall into a rippling sensation of bliss
All along I've been your gift
Making dreams come true in just the simplicity of a kiss
Sometimes love bites
But, you like that I insist
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
Extermination decapitation
Nocturnal obliteration
Armadillos anteater bafoon
Typhoon heatwave...
Mr Grim Reaper
DON'T YOU KNOW?
No grave can keep Her...
Men march on as to heaven
Twenty four seven
Three Six five days
Ten different ways
Passionate professional
Daring sharing nurturing
Caring...Monsters within Minions
Amazing people aren't they
There is no substitute for hard work
Just observe Ants.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 5:04 PM UTC
Myself caught in the heatwave sunlight, brown eyes
furrowed in the sun, scarf loose on my neck/
the transcendental Denpasar morning-birds
are playing their melodies in my head still,
three years post-Indonesia.
All of my soul to India now,
sky the pink of painted elephants
on Jaipur dawning,
my afterlife was somewhere here
perhaps two generations ago, chances are.
Vijay Raghav Rao and Alla Rakha
playing the Tabla/via earphones/treading the
Funary Box City (Kashi) future Spring
hands held together keeping calm pace.
Looking about, my twenty-two year old face
catches humid wind
S
I
L
V
E
R
S
H
O
P
tattered bike leaning on the gated guest house entrance
PERENNIAL AZURE SHIVA SITS CROSS LEGGED/
COBRA NECKLACE IMITIATONS ON THE GODDESS THROAT/
MEDITATING SHIVA/
dulled from years and corrosion.
Brahmin center of the market street
flapping it's tail,
sweat beads from my forehead bleeding
to oily pavement.
At last the months have come for the river Ganges,
April penumbra/savage thunderclap
while school children uplifting the heart
AND MIND
are ROARING in their laughter
the CONTINENTAL DISCORD OF JOY
sleeping with their eyes open
while others are too tired for the Earth.
Sidney Bechet floating swan songs during
the black hour cremations/
“Bechet Creole Blues”
CATERWAUL IN THAT VOID
THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DEATH/
LUNACY OF LIFE
(I've arrived at the simultaneous crossroads
of both)
searing flesh in open air pyramids/
Manikarnika Ghat,
Asia F
L
O
W
S
through dreams
like inevitable prophecy
and as ash blends with stars
the CITY seems fulfilled
and mystifying
in it's
(((((RESPLENDENCE)))))
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
This muggy, sultry sun is no fun:
Longest sustained heatwave for over forty years.
Suffocating Sahara with Death Valley cracks
In the dry arid soil.
My electric fan shattered with a power surge
Into fragmented plastic shards.
I so miss it now.
It’s oppressively tropical,
With volcanic heat
And Pressure bearing down on us.
The clammy mugginess of a sauna.
Not the clean dry air you find abroad,
Yet still that remorseless torrid scorching,
Roasting and toasting.
Just too much.
Hot air clothed in humid moisture,
Stuffy and sweaty,
Steaming to a haze
And later
Thunder storms.
I long for a cool brew
To freeze my throat
And quench my raging thirst:
Ice cool, ice cool, ice cool.
I’m sure not talking
Of tea.
Paul Butters
© PB 6\8\2018.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
The headdress danced in the sun
On the Indian's hollow
And eyeless skull.
It was framed in feathers
Brightly-colored serpents in the
Salty air flames licking at
Dancing and ***** bare feet.
Dark-skinned, tall, high cheekbones
And solemn eyes full of
Wisdom--he surveys the
Badlands, Moses's rigid face
Blank and silent in a
Heatwave desert.
Beyond the teepees and the
Black bonfire smoke and
The buffalo rhythm, the plateau has
Risen, bleached bones
Litter the plains as a constant
Reminder.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
there are invisible children hidden behind
miles of above ground swimming pools
and wooden swing sets. they've seen
life sized doll parts scattered across
their front lawns and were taught how to
take their first steps
as though they were being sent off to war;
knees straight. head tall.
don't flinch at the sight of blood.
a few weeks ago i turned on the local news,
the upcoming story took place in the west side of Detroit.
a photo of a young, colored girl wearing
butterfly shaped barrettes in her hair comes up,
the headline at the bottom of the screen reads,
3-YEAR OLD SHOT IN FRONT YARD
the news reporter talks about the situation
as though she's being forced to discuss
the weather in the middle of a heatwave;
it's the same. **** thing. every. day.
i'll tell you what no one pictures
when they hear about another ******
in the same city that might as well
*start building their front doors
like cemetery gates.*
picture the mother
trying to sell a cradle so she has the money
to buy a 3-foot long casket. picture her
walking into her daughter's room
to tuck her into bed & remembering that she's
got nothing left but empty hands.
dear america,
tell me why some of us were born
with targets sewn into our backs, tell me if it
disturbs you at all that there are children
who want to chip off their skin, that want to be painted
a new color because they want to see if the light
will hit them in a different way,
& make them less invisible.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
She looks at me
Squints in one eye
Runs her tongue around her lips
From one corner to the other
My heart races, head flutters
I'm just so hot inside
Burning up in fact
Beads of sweat pour from my forehead
Drip down my nose and I realise
She has what I so very badly want
She pulls her hand away from her mouth
"What the **** are you looking at?"
I choke on my words before they come out
I'm so embarrassed
"I'm sorry love, that cornetto looks amazing right now"
For it is a British heatwave
We're strange enough in our usual
Cold and wet weather
We're freaks in the sun
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
heatwave
night air barely sighs
heatwave
bodies lie far apart
on sweat damp sheets
heatwave
tuxedo boy sleeps
spread eagled, legs asprawl
on wet shower tiles
heatwave
the god child
twists and turns
in superman ****** under
mosquito-net blown by fans
heatwave
outside small things
bathe & scurry through waterpans
placed on fast dying grass
and larger things drink
gulping mouthfuls from the pond
heatwave
and we all await the breeze
and the small hours of the night
when the temperature drops
when the air cools enough
so as not to stifle breath,
anger minds, open lips
leaving hurt behind
heatwave
Jan 14, 2017
Jan 14, 2017 at 9:01 AM UTC
I see your hand waver, now you're faced with a ghost,
not the raw, killer features that were nailed to a post.
Just an old, dying cowboy, trying hard to play host.
There's a chair if you've mercy, and a story...come close.
The liquor of youth lights a fire in you, son.
Puts that flame in your eyes and the heat in your lungs.
I wore that expression, before your thread was spun,
so let me unload, you can shoot when I'm done.
Growing sore in my saddle as the nag became lame,
I sold off my shooters, then re-mortgaged my name.
But tease out the creases, we're exactly the same;
two felons of fortune, wanting someone to blame.
See, I never got settled, didn't take me a wife.
Sailed a ship in a bottle, on the edge of a knife.
I put stock in misfortune and invested in strife,
took diminished returns, paid no interest to life.
But corralling cattle won't hold them for long,
they're born to roam free where they know they belong.
Soon the lipstick and whiskey begins to taste wrong,
as the backroom piano sighs its monotone song.
By a tangerine sunset I scraped off my boots
and considered an orchard as it set down its roots.
As a buzzing of insects idly nurtured its fruits,
I was deafened by silence. My own garden was mute.
So I clutched at the earth as I fell to the floor,
to ask for forgiveness, as you darkened my door.
Seems redemption's eloped, like a gold digging *****
Just a name on a tombstone, for a few dollars more.
Quite an end would be fitting for a fool so innate,
who has squandered his years until the hour is late.
Son, unholster your weapon and wipe off the slate,
I beg execution, swift vengeance, But wait...
Did I catch my reflection as it fell from your face?
Like a hound in a heatwave, too tired to give chase?
Son, the trail that you're riding is easy replaced.
You can stand in the sunlight, or come sit in my place.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
Heatwave.
Dust whirling,
after mobile departures,
in the decadence
of our innumerous crows'-feet.
The sweat of humidity
dropping on neutrally carpeted floors.
Beer lubricating
many a rusty throat
as human optimism
and pessimism
make friends with each other
in a warlike fashion.
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 7:20 AM UTC
If you don't mind it, love
I believe I must ask:
Why is it that
Even when Summer begins to die
This heat never seems to fade away, too?
Solstice is bleeding out in the streets every night
Those fallen leaves, shielding her body
And yet, here in September
I'm still drunk on that brand-new sunshine
That makes me want to lie down with you.
I wish you and I could find a cold place
A secret pathway into Autumn's sweetly perfumed arms
But, love, if that's not happening
Perhaps we should go where the sun shines brightest
And revel in a halo of blistering light.
Perhaps we could peel away
All the formality
Just to keep cool
Every layer of reserve
Long gone by the end of the day.
Of course
You'll see every imperfection
And I'll know it
But I won't mind
As long as each one gets attention from your fingertips.
I'll find Spring in your skin
And you'll taste Winter on my lips
And Summer and her fatal fever
Will be no match for us.
In fact, we'll barely feel her harsh kiss
Streaming through the window
Into our little room
Where everything feels just right.
So, if you don't mind it, love
I believe that you should follow me into this retreat
Where we can embrace this heatwave.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 11:40 PM UTC
heatwave
hotter than Hades
heating every inch of our terrain
heckling with it's scorching sear
haranguing us from dusk to dawn
hell fires have been unleashed
holy cow we're in need of a bit of relief
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC
It was Tucson in the endless dog
days of an endless summer.
The heat was inescapable,
pooling in the window frames
and the air as it coughed from the vents:
A fever that would never break.
Two weeks we lay there, knee deep in the throws
of a heat that would never subdue, a summer
that would never end. You would knock on my door,
laying there on the bed, staring holes into the
dripped and melting ceiling.
You held a paper bag of cheap wine between
your ****** and tarnished fingers,
clinking against the rings you wore like
trophies. I don’t know where I found you,
golden brown and beautiful out amongst
an vast eternity of ugliness.
We took mescaline we had gotten from
your cousin living back out on the reservation.
Laying there passing back the wine
you told me how the desert was alive,
how it had been swallowing you your whole life.
You told me that the dryness and the heat
had consumed you, burnt you through until
you couldn’t bear to be yourself anymore.
The scorching heat overcame you and you told me
there had been no choice but to become the desert.
I had only been in the southwest two months,
but I saw it, although I was untouched.
You had grown here, you said,
wilting to ash together with the desert.
The mescaline had me by the throat and
I saw you from dust to dust.
I saw you at one with the desert.
You were beautiful amongst the
red and ochre blood of the sand
and at once I wanted to melt to ash
and burn into the desert alongside you.
I told you and you laughed and I laughed
and we made love to the heat
and to the sweat driven
out from underneath our pores,
inflamed by the drugs and
the inescapable heat.
The room was aflame and
the great desert was alive
and ripping at us
through the open window
with claws of heat that
slashed at our backs.
I awoke and you were tying your shoes.
Just like that, the fever had broken,
and already you could feel
autumn coming in with its swathes
of chilled air sweeping across the plains.
I had been in love those two weeks.
With the sun and the dust and the ash
and the desert and all of it being one
with you. As it all collapsed around me
I felt saddened at its loss.
You were out the door
and the summer was over.
I moved back east where the
winter came faster and colder
and the desert was
of a different kind.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
how is it Southerners can stand the heat
it hasn't been this hot all season long
this mugginess is robbing me of sleep
dog days are early for summer's swan song
my shirt is wet in the middle of night
knew enough to get up, drink some water
my brow is sweating even as I write
sit by the fan as I think I oughter
the fan is on "breeze" lulling me to sleep
seems to work as my body is cooling
back to bed now, resort to counting sheep
closing my eyes, enough with this fooling
the TV's volume is down to a drone
my body's easing into a dream zone
May 7, 2010
May 7, 2010 at 10:52 AM UTC
Snow in March in England
Is utterly absurd!
Springs already started
There's white stuff everywhere
Last year there was a heatwave
Barbeques and shorts
Now it's Alaska
Now there's something wrong
If this is global warming
It rather takes the ****
I've seen warmer chapel hat pegs
The proverbial witches *** !!!
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 9:27 PM UTC
Summer Daze
Summer days
Playful playful playful
Days ablaze
Joyful joyful joyful
Days of rays
Summer days
Summer days
Peaceful peaceful peaceful
Days of play
Gleeful gleeful gleeful
Good ole days
Summer days
Summer days
Brightly brightly brightly
Break of day
Sunny sunny sunny
Bright all day
Summer days
Summer days
Burning burning burning
Heatwave days
Blinding blinding blinding
Solar haze
Sunny Daze
Bill MacEachern 3/21/23
Mar 21, 2023
Mar 21, 2023 at 6:06 PM UTC
Standing here, in 90-degree land
Where nothing is right
But the drink in my hand
Sweet saving coolness, fine eastern breeze!
I welcome thee warmly,
I welcome you, please
Stand fans may blow this languor away,
But I cannot stand
These bills I must pay
Summer is hot on my heels as I run
Through prickly white sands
– and the daydream is gone
In thick sticky air, seconds trickle and crawl
As sweat from my temples
To the sides of my jaw
The sun's got a fever and my blood could be boiling
I laze inch by inch though my insides are roiling
To be productive in this haze – this hell of a heatwave
But instead I'm in bed, just rotting and spoiling
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 1:27 AM UTC
We're at the point of almost melting
Hellish heatwave is most sweltering
All of us getting an absolute baking
Thermostats are all upwardly rising
Abundant solar activity is happening
Skin on our faces akin to pork crackling
Copious amount of water we're drinking
Our sweaty brows are in need of mopping
Relief from the heat we're always seeking
Cool locales like long verandah shading
Hades is where us folks are now dwelling
Endless hours of excessively high temperatures
Reductions in these would be such a pleasure
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 7:06 PM UTC
you mumble and maunder
all through your afternoon
nap....
never quite still,
but not thrashing about...
and then you wake,
tired and grumpy
all sweat and stickyness
two hours of tired
and five years of sassiness
standing before me
with thunderclouds for
eyebrows....
you want!!!....
but what you get is
a big hug a quick dash
to the next door neighbors pool....
please god....when will this
heatwave end???
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:00 PM UTC
sticky tar on the soles of my shoes
the smell of meat bbqing
mixed with salt air, sunscreen, and beer
air shimmers, cats and dogs shadowy lumps
under trees and deck eaves,
old women sitting wide-legged infront of fans
children darting in and out of pools,
men in singlets or bare chested,
women in sarongs and shorts....
all waiting for the afternoon breeze,
the sun to give up and leave....
and the cool of the evening to come...
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
flawless writing from flawless people
melting my heart like an ice cube in this ************* heatwave
sort urself out british weather
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
The sun isn't even cooking me
it's just not raining,
the brown Liffey is dipping and lapping
the bus windows are all open.
"What think ye of Christ"
asks the poster by the driver.
"Not much," but if he's real
I'll thank him for the blue of the sky.
Is this what happiness feels like?
Because it's pretty ******* good.
The silver lines on my arms
tease me about years ago.
I remember
tightening a belt around my neck
and wondering how it felt to die.
But I was silly back then.
Look at the blue of the sky.
Look at the wispy clouds.
Look at my friends saying
"Go outside and look at the moon."
Life is strung up by a rope.
I miss the boy who I love
but not too much.
One day I'll find a prince for myself
in Rome or America
in a land far away on the sea.
I'll sail away in a couple of days
life's going good for me.
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 9:26 AM UTC
The summer heat welcomes heart rate
The affection I show, you negate
My heads burning up
My hearts breaking apart
You never know how cold the last goodbye is
Until you’re buried alive
Frozen in the middle of July
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 10:22 PM UTC
I remember you as you were in the heatwave
Cool and light with intrigue
Wide eyed and open soul
And words, words of a man, trials of a man but spirit of a boy
A fire child who found joy in the simplicity of the sun
A softens to your frame, and wave in your hair, like even numbers
The faintest grey lavender fields surround us as the city falls at your feet
I notice your eyes, every time, I notice your eyes
Feb 18, 2019
Feb 18, 2019 at 5:11 PM UTC
Kissed the heatwave goodbye at last,
All waving as she left,
While armies of black clouds amassed across the pinkish sky,
Manipulated by light tricks in the heavy glow,
Diminutive raindrops thickened as we danced,
Worshiping the shower of cooling joy,
We danced in celebration, in appeasment of Thor,
The world becoming more content,
The blazing fireball came and went,
Bedecked with paste of glory breeze,
Kissing all around,
The rain came dousing baking souls,
Chased heat into submission with electric fireballs,
Dots and dashes,
Nova flashes,
Thunder roared as lions purr,
Bodies relieved to breathe again,
Headache of oppressed airs' hatred,
Dissipated at last,
Sleep weighed heavily on the eyes of the sufferers,
'Til now at last with cooler skies and night wishes,
With rest they're truly blessed!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 1:26 PM UTC